


Heat and Flame

by Middle_Earth_Mama



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Fluff and Smut, M/M, One Shot, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Top Thorin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 07:52:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16488638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Middle_Earth_Mama/pseuds/Middle_Earth_Mama
Summary: Thorin stopped for a moment, only to take a breath and push the hair and sweat from his eyes, giving Bilbo a temporary view of his regal profile. Thorin's chest heaved as he slid his hand over his face, pushing his hair back to fall over glistening shoulders, then continued his merciless assault on the metal he worked.Bilbo nearly choked on the groan that tried to force its way past his lips. He felt his own trousers become uncomfortably tight as he watched Thorin work. Some feeble part of Bilbo's mind knew he should not be spying on the king like this, but honestly, who could blame him?





	Heat and Flame

**Author's Note:**

> This one kind of ran away with me. The end is a bit rushed, but I had to give them a happy ending! Hope you enjoy it!

After the great battle, and the winning of the mountain. After the sons of Durin had ample time to recover, there was much to be done. Bilbo was invited to stay the winter in Erebor. Not that he would have had much choice. The amount of snow and ice falling from the sky was a near constant assault on the mountain. And Bilbo was more than happy to stay the winter with the company he had come to see as family. However, as much work as there was to be done, he hardly was able to see his dwarf friends. They were all quite busy with restoration. So Instead, he took to exploring the mountain halls, feeling the giddy excitement of wandering at his own leisure, without being pressed for time, and with no orcs hunting him down. 

It was on a particularly restless night that Bilbo decided to go on one of these explorations to shake the memory of a most unsettling dream. One of clashing blades and the smell of death and horrors of battle. 

Bilbo wandered aimlessly, trying to shake the visions and sounds that had overtaken his head. He realized he had made his way out of the main halls, lit with torches that brightened the space. The halls he instead found himself in were darker, sloping down a bit. He continued nonetheless, eager to explore new territory.

Bilbo's footsteps slowed when he heard the echoing clang of pounding iron. He followed the sound curiously, winding deeper into the heart of the mountain. He turned a corner and looked down the corridor. The glow of a lit forge cast an orange haze through a vast doorway, the sharp hammering that had led him there jarring from within. 

Bilbo wasn't sure why, but he felt the need to be discreet. Quietly as only a hobbit could be, he crept to the doorway, cautiously peering around the corner to find the source of the offending sound. Inside was Thorin, working at the forge.

Bilbo had always seen the fire in the dwarf king. The way Thorin spoke, of his home, of his family, of his friends. The way he moved when he fought, graceful, but deadly, weapons flashing like the flames in his eyes. Eyes that were always brimming with heat and passion, on and off the battlefield. Bilbo constantly found himself lost in those blue orbs. That too knowing smirk taunted him, as though the king knew of his fantasies. He wondered what that powerful, solid body looked like under all those layers. He'd had many chances to see for himself. But when the company had stopped to bathe while on the road, Bilbo preferred to bathe in solitude. He knew, one glance and it would be all too obvious to everyone just how he felt about their enrapturing leader.

Bilbo's wildest imaginings could never have done the king justice. Thorin was glorious. He wore only boots and loose trousers, exposing a large expanse of lightly golden skin, trousers slung low on his hips. He was facing slightly away from Bilbo, sweat glistening over the muscles of his shoulders as they flexed and stretched with every swing of his hammer. Thorin stopped for a moment, only to take a breath and push the hair and sweat from his eyes, giving Bilbo a temporary view of his regal profile. Thorin's chest heaved as he slid his hand over his face, pushing his hair back to fall over glistening shoulders, then continued his merciless assault on the metal he worked. 

Bilbo nearly choked on the groan that tried to force its way past his lips. He felt his own trousers become uncomfortably tight as he watched Thorin work. Some feeble part of Bilbo's mind knew he should not be spying on the king like this, but honestly, who could blame him? Before he could stop himself, he began to slide his hand to his waistband. Thankfully, he was startled by the loud and angry sputter and hiss of scorching metal submersed in water. It was just the kick Bilbo needed to come to his senses and beat a hasty retreat back to his rooms, cataloging what he had witnessed for perusal when he was safely shut behind closed doors. 

Bilbo couldn't get back to his bedroom fast enough. He was driven desperate by lust and arousal, nearly sprinting in his rush to take care of the unfulfilled need the dwarf kings physique had induced. 

Finally, he reached his door and flung it open, throwing himself through it and slamming it roughly. The latch had hardly clicked before Bilbo was tearing his house coat and sleeping pants off, flinging them carelessly to the floor wherever they landed. He couldn't even be bothered to reach the bed and instead flung himself heavily into his armchair, next to the glowing hearth. He closed his eyes and grabbed his painfully throbbing member, immediately setting to stroke himself at a rapid pace. 

The vision Bilbo had just had the pleasure of witnessing swam before his eyes, as if it were painted on the backs of his eyelids. Thorin, strong and magnificent, the light from the forge glistening off his sweat slicked skin, his hair, silver streaked waves of onyx cascading over strong, solid shoulders, lining the sturdy bulk of his frame. His eyes intense with focus, powerful chest painted with tattoos and wiry black hair. His movements smooth, but firm and deliberate. 

Bilbo was so lost in the confines of his imagination, he didn't hear the hesitant knock on the door. He didn't notice the dwarf he was so vividly imagining pull the door quietly open.

“Bilbo?” Thorin's questioning voice crashed over the hobbit. He couldn't tell if he was more overcome with the icy clench of shame, or the inferno of want that coursed anew over his body at the timbre of that deep voice.

Bilbo's eyes flew open. He slowly turned his head towards Thorin, finding himself pinned to the cushion below him by the king's incredulous stare. 

Thorin was clothed now, his exposed arms and bit of his chest visible at his collar still gleaming from his efforts at the forge. His face was unreadable, eyes wide and skin flushing slightly as he took in Bilbo's red face and the wild look in his eye, the smooth porcelain of his bare chest and belly, and finally, the death grip with which Bilbo held his leaking cock. 

Bilbo decided the best course of action would be to act casual. “Oh, hello Thorin,” he tried, voice a little higher pitch than usual.

Thorin's eyebrows shot up at Bilbo's breezy tone, as though he had not just been caught in the act of stroking himself to completion by the fire. “I'm sorry, I- I was working in my forge and thought I caught a glimpse of you in the doorway, but you disappeared before I could ask if there was something you needed.”

“Oh, yes that was me,” Bilbo said flippantly.  
“Was there something you required?” Thorin pointedly kept his gaze just above Bilbo's left shoulder.  
“Oh no, I got exactly what I wanted,” Bilbo replied boldly.  
“Oh?” Thorin met Bilbo's eyes with an inquisitive look. When Bilbo didn't respond, he tried again. “And what was it you were after, Bilbo?”  
Bilbo hesitated for a moment, but the daring that seems to come with the heat of the night kicked in again. “I was looking for the most glorious site in Erebor. And I found it. And that's what led me here.”

Understanding dawned on Thorin at Bilbo's confession. He stared transfixed at the hobbit's face for several moments, before he decided to speak.  
“Do you, um, would you like....” Thorin tried.  
“Would I like.......?”  
“I could..” Thorin gestured down at Bilbo's stilled hand.

Bilbo's eyes bulged in his head. Was Thorin propositioning him? His mouth had gone so dry he could not coax it into responding, and instead settled for nodding vigorously.

Thorin's grin was nothing short of triumphant as he turned to shut the door behind him, sliding the lock home. He closed the distance between himself and the hobbit before Bilbo could blink. 

Bilbo sat frozen as he watched Thorin approach. He gazed up at the dwarf, bewildered as the king hit his knees before the chair and slid a hand tentatively up Bilbo's bare leg. He paused to give Bilbo a questioning look, allowing him a chance to change his mind. Bilbo nodded again, this time managing to breathe out a whispered “please”.

Thorin's hand continued ever upward and settled around Bilbo's own, still gripping his straining erection.  
“And what was it you saw that has put you into such a state?” Thorin asked slyly.

Bilbo swallowed audibly, his tongue feeling heavy and clumsy in his mouth.  
“Y-y-you,” he answered simply. 

“And what about me has my hobbit so thoroughly debauched?” Thorin moved Bilbo's hand with his own, causing him to stroke himself a couple times teasingly.

“Your hair,” Bilbo gasped out. Thorin pulled Bilbo's hand from his engorged flesh, lacing their fingers together, and gazed deliberately into Bilbo's eyes. 

“My hair?” he questioned, “And what would you do with my hair, Bilbo Baggins?”  
“I long to touch it,” Bilbo started, voice low and rough, “to bury my fingers in those dark waves.”

Bilbo watched with bated breath as Thorin placed the hobbit's hand gently against his jaw, turning his face into the touch for a moment. Then he slid Bilbo's fingers over a bristled cheek and finally around the dwarf's thick neck, plunging them into the ebony mane in question. Bilbo couldn't help the instinct to grasp the coarse strands, eyes closing with a hum of appreciation. 

“And? Is it as you imagined?” Thorin asked, almost teasingly.  
“There is no comparison for the reality,” Bilbo whispered.  
“What else captured your hungry gaze?” 

Bilbo swallowed again. Never had words failed him so miserably than in this moment. And where should he start? He closed his eyes and let his thoughts tumble shamelessly out as his hand continued working through Thorin's hair. “Your shoulders. The muscles of your back. The hard planes of your chest and stomach...” 

Bilbo's eyes fluttered open again as Thorin pulled away and sat back on his heels. He grasped the bottom of the light tunic he now wore, and pulled it up languidly over his head. He dropped the offending article on the fur rug and shook out his hair, making a show of it to excite Bilbo further. 

Thorin rose back up to kneeling and settled himself between the hobbits legs. He took both of Bilbo's hands and placed them lightly on his chest. Bilbo felt like a fumbling youth, groaning a bit as he ran his hands up Thorin's sweat slicked chest and over his shoulders, then back down again. Thorin's skin was fire beneath his hands, hot as the forge and hard as an anvil.

“What else do you fantasize about, my hobbit?” Thorin was nearly beaming with satisfaction at the effect he was having Bilbo.

“Um,” Bilbo's tongue darted out to wet his lips, “your eyes. Your captivating eyes and your strong chiseled jaw. And your lips.”  
“My lips?”  
“Oh yes. They are most tempting.” 

Thorin placed his hands on the tops of the hobbit's legs and leaned in until his face was nearly brushing Bilbo's.  
“So,” he whispered, breath hot and sweet on Bilbo's lips, “you would not mind, then, if I were to put them to use?”  
“Oh no, not at all,” Bilbo gasped.

Thorin lunged forward the few inches that separated them to crush his lips to Bilbo's, plunging his tongue into the hobbit's willing mouth as he gasped in approval. Bilbo's hands were everywhere, torn between mapping out every inch of the king's skin and burying themselves into lush, thick hair. 

Much to Bilbo's dismay, Thorin pulled back, but appeased the hobbit again when he pressed his open mouth to Bilbo's jaw. Bilbo tilted his head, allowing Thorin better access, eyes rolling back as Thorin sucked and nibbled the heated skin along Bilbo's neck and shoulder. As Thorin worked, his hands traveled back up the sides of Bilbo's legs, his mouth moving ever down over a smooth chest and stomach. 

Bilbo was a writhing mess. Thorin's lips and hands seemed made of flame, igniting his nerve endings and sending passion hot as liquid metal flowing beneath his skin. He was utterly wrecked beneath the king's attentions, hips thrusting upwards slightly of their own accord, moans and pleas pouring from him like a prayer. 

Bilbo slapped his hands to the armrests, gripping desperately and flung his head back as a hot, wet tongue ran up the length of his shaft. “Oh sweet heavens!” Bilbo shouted as hot breath engulfed the head. He looked down at Thorin, eyes wild, breath coming out in ragged pants. Thorin met that heated gaze and watched Bilbo's lips work silently as he took Bilbo's length into his mouth, agonizingly slow. 

Finally, Bilbo was fully enveloped in the wet heat of Thorin's mouth. Thorin bobbed his head languidly, working Bilbo into a babbling puddle of goo. When he thought the hobbit properly ravaged, he pulled his mouth from him and stood, giving Bilbo a moment to come back to himself. 

“Would you care to join me on the bed?” Thorin asked huskily.

Bilbo nodded as he eagerly abandoned his chair, stumbling on wobbly legs to lead the king to his bed.  
Thorin came up behind Bilbo when he reached the bedside and slid his hand into the hair at the nape of Bilbo's neck, pulling his head back so he could run his tongue over the bruises blooming under the pale skin of his throat. Then, he yanked the hobbit around to face him, kissing him fiercely for a moment, before hefting him up on the bed. 

Bilbo watched enthralled as Thorin quickly unlaced and removed his trousers. He crawled up the bed, hands on either side of Bilbo, until his body hovered over the hobbit. Bilbo could feel the heat rolling off of Thorin's skin, the dwarf's hair a midnight curtain surrounding them. He could not wait to feel heated flesh against him. He brought his hands up and grabbed Thorin by the hair, pulling their mouths and bodies together. 

Thorin was a forge. His body a hot, hard mass, blazing against Bilbo's skin. He smelled of fire and wood and metal, his mouth tasting of a flavor that was uniquely Thorin. 

Bilbo kissed Thorin with desperation, like a man drowning, his tongue plundering Thorin's mouth unmercifully. He pulled his hands from the dwarf's hair and wrapped them around to grasp Thorin's back. He groaned and dug his nails into solid muscle when Thorin rolled his hips, grinding their erections together. Thorin growled into Bilbo's mouth as the hobbit returned the gesture, sweat slicked skin creating a delicious balance of slide and friction. 

Thorin pulled back suddenly to hover over Bilbo again. “What do you want of me? I am willing to give anything you ask,” Thorin's voice was dry and raspy with arousal, eyes blazing with need as he met Bilbo's half lidded gaze. “I want you Thorin. I want you to take me,” Bilbo managed to gasp out between panted breaths. 

That was all the go ahead Thorin needed. He leapt up onto his knees, snatching a vial from his trousers, and pulled the stopper out eagerly. He coated his fingers in a generous amount of oil then placed his clean hand on Bilbo's hip bone. 

“Did you plan this?” Bilbo blurted out.  
“A king is always prepared,” Thorin responded absently.

Bilbo pulled up his knees to give Thorin better access, setting his feet on the furs beneath him. He closed his eyes in anticipation as a slick fingertip gently stroked his entrance. He gasped as Thorin eased his finger in slowly, giving Bilbo time to acclimate. Bilbo moaned when Thorin began working his finger around, spreading and stretching him gently. A second finger joined the first, but Bilbo hardly noticed as Thorin played him like a harp, obviously well experienced. Every other stroke hit a nerve that sent waves of tingling heat through Bilbo's entire body, causing his hands to clench in the furs beneath him. 

Thorin removed his fingers and grabbed the vial again, this time coating his cock with the thick oil. He lined himself up and slowly began to slide into Bilbo. He stopped part way in as Bilbo's eyes pinched shut and his brow furrowed. 

“Bilbo, look at me,” Thorin whispered, “if this is too much, we can go back to other activities.”  
Bilbo shook his head. “No, no just give me a moment.” 

Thorin closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, nearly vibrating with anticipation as he gave Bilbo time to adjust. He knew this might be tricky, given his bulk surpassed Bilbo's in every way imaginable. Hobbits were not made to be so thick.  
Thorin was concentrating so hard on holding steady, he didn't notice Bilbo's legs wrap around his waist. Bilbo dug his heels lightly into Thorin's back and pulled him closer, deeper into Bilbo's heat. Thorin's head fell back and he groaned obscenely, then fell forward over Bilbo, bracing his hands next to Bilbo's hips. He began to move slowly, his thrusts gentle and careful, as he watched Bilbo's face for any signs of discomfort. 

Bilbo's expression was one of bliss, the slow grind of their bodies pulling him closer and closer to the edge. He quickly noticed with a bit of surprise that Thorin's pace never quickened, his thrusts never gained the intensity that might signal his own building climax. He looked up at the dwarf above him to see his face was screwed up in concentration. Fresh beads of sweat gathered at his temples and over his upper lip. 

“Thorin?” The intense gaze that met his was lit with dragon fire, desperate and pained with restraint.  
Bilbo pushed Thorin's chest, encouraging him to sit up. Thorin looked uncertain for a moment, as though he were afraid Bilbo would push him away. But instead, the hobbit took Thorin's hands and placed them on his hips. “I will not break Thorin. Please. Don't hold back.”

Thorin began moving again, a little faster and harder than before. Encouraged by the gasps of pleasure that fell from the hobbit's mouth, Thorin tightened his grip on Bilbo's hips and quickened his pace. He grabbed Bilbo's prick in one hand and stroked in time with his thrusts, sending Bilbo over the edge within moments. Bilbo went rigid, his spine arching off the bed as his orgasm crashed over him in waves. He moaned out Thorin's name between uncontrolled gasps and tremors. 

As he leveled out, Bilbo looked up at Thorin, who was close to finishing himself. “Cum for me, Thorin,” Bilbo whispered huskily. He watched as Thorin's eyes rolled back, his hips stuttering, fingers surely bruising Bilbo where they gripped him in desperation. 

Bilbo didn't mind. He was too enraptured in the vision before him. Thorin was magnificent in his bliss. He rode out his climax with wild abandon, leaving Bilbo in awe at the sight. This was the picture he would see in his minds eye when he was back in the Shire. As lonely nights closed in on him, he would revisit this exact moment in full detail, recalling the dwarf king, all barriers down. Nearly roaring in pleasure. Filling him with heat. Sweat rolling down his tattooed chest. His skin shining golden in the firelight. Hair in wild disarray. 

Thorin nearly collapsed on top of Bilbo, sliding to his side at the last moment so as not to crush him. The two faced each other, gasping for breath, sharing in the sweet surrender of afterglow. Bilbo sighed in satisfaction as his breathing leveled out. “Wow,” was all he was able to articulate as he stared into the deep blue eyes before him.

Thorin chuckled a little, wrapping an arm around Bilbo, pulling him closer to his chest. Then his expression fell serious as he gazed back at the hobbit.  
“Bilbo, don't go back to the Shire,” he whispered softly, “please, stay with me here. I would spend every night with you like this, for the rest of our days, if you'd let me.” 

Bilbo's breath caught in his throat at the king's proposal. “You... You would be with me? Like this? Openly? In secret? Or as what?”

“My consort,” Thorin answered.

Bilbo grinned like the lovestruck fool he was. “Thorin, nothing could make me happier than to stay with you.”

Thorin grinned back and pulled Bilbo closer, kissing him more slowly this time, with a patience that comes with knowing they had all the time in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> I am still new to this, and frankly quite embarrassed about writing it at all. Please tell me how I’m doing!


End file.
